


these are the hands of fate

by honeyspeaches



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern AU, Soulmates, clarke/marcus/abby family feels, finn's a dick, idk it's cute, maybe a little angsty, not angsty??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyspeaches/pseuds/honeyspeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which clarke has a soulmate, bellamy doesn't have a soulmate, and neither of these facts are going to stop them</p><p>modern au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these are the hands of fate

**Author's Note:**

> so basically just a modern au where people are born with names on the back of their neck and that person is their soulmate

Clarke uses her shoulder to push open the door to the police station, her hands too busy making sure the Chinese food doesn’t fall to the ground.

 It’s a tradition of hers- Marcus always finishes late on Tuesdays, so she always brings him his favourite takeaway to make sure he eats. These days, it’s the most contact she really has with her family.

 The station is as familiar to her as it is to any and all of the people who actually work there, and she grins at one of her stepfather’s deputies as she heads to his office. “Hey, Indra,” she greets happily. “How’s that murder case coming along?”

 The stoic woman doesn’t answer, but she does give a slight wave, and that’s more a seal of approval than the majority of her co-workers are likely to get. Clarke’s sure Indra has a soft spot for, though she’s also sure the deputy will never admit it.

 Marcus’ office seems more like it should belong to a professor than a police chief. It’s warmer than the rest of the station, with wooden furniture and fancy armchairs and dim lighting. There’s even a bookcase, albeit a near empty one.

 Papers are strewn across Marcus’ desk and sits in his seat, staring intently at an official looking document through his glasses. He doesn’t seem to notice her at first, too engrossed in whatever he’s reading.

 Clarke taps lightly on the wall with her foot, and he glances up, startled. “Hi, Clarke,” he says, standing to wrap and arm around her shoulders and land a quick kiss on her cheek. “Is it that time already?”

 It isn’t, she realises as she glances at the clock by the window- it’s only 5:30. But he works hard enough to warrant an early night and he technically could have left a half hour ago, anyway. She drops the food carelessly atop his papers and drops herself into a seat opposite his him, kicking her legs onto his desk and making herself at home.

 Marcus lowers himself back into his own seat. “Your mother misses you,” he says with an accusatory glance. “She wants to fix your relationship. I’m under strict instructions to invite you over for dinner on Sunday night, and to not take no for an answer.”

 “No,” Clarke answers automatically, biting down on a spring roll. It’s been almost a year since she and her mother have spoken, save a rushed phone call on Clarke’s birthday- Abby had made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t approve of her daughter’s career choice, and when Clarke refused to go to medical school that had been the end of it. “She can come to me herself and apologise if she wants to fix it so badly.”

 Before Marcus has the chance to answer, a knock comes to the door. Clarke frowns- it’s an unspoken rule that no one interrupts their weekly dinners unless it’s really, really, important- but Marcus only sighs and calls for whoever it is to come in.

 The man who enters is, surprisingly, entirely unfamiliar to Clarke. He’s tall and tanned with dark hair and dark eyes, and there’s a small cluster of freckles across his nose that make him look younger than he probably is.

 He doesn’t seem to notice her, his attention thoroughly focused on her stepfather. “Kane,” he says, with no superfluous emotion to his monotone, “We got a confession out of the mugger.”

 Marcus nods. “Knew he’d crack,” he replies, and his eyes flicker over to Clarke as she gives a slight and not at all subtle cough. “Oh- Bellamy, this is my daughter, Clarke. Clarke, this is Bellamy Blake. He’s a new detective.”

 Bellamy barely even looks at her as he holds out a hand for her to sake, and instead of shaking it she offers him a container of Chinese food. “Garlic chicken?” she asks with a mouth full of food.

 “I don’t eat meat,” he says without missing a beat, and he tips an imaginary hat at her and Marcus as he leaves.

 Clarke shrugs and goes back to her food once he’s gone. Thankfully, Marcus doesn’t keep with what they’d been discussing before the interruption and instead settles for asking how things with her girlfriend are going.

 “She’s good,” Clarke tells him, unwilling to admit that they’re fighting and that she’s been sleeping on Raven’s cough for the better half of the past month. Marcus has never liked Lexa, and she doesn’t want to give him another reason to disapprove of her relationship- though, she highly doubts he’d ever be verbally critical of her soulmate, considering he knows he’s going to have to put up with her forever. “Really good, actually. She just got cast as the lead in some massive new play being staged.”

 Marcus, to his credit, smiles and nods like he’s even vaguely interested in Lexa’s acting. It’s an art he’s perfected over the years, supporting Clarke even when he doesn’t agree with her, something he’d even been good at before he’d started dating her mother. In that regard, he’s often a much better parent to her than Abby’s ever been. “Good for her.”

 When it comes time for them to leave, they stand outside the station, buttoning their coats to fend off the cold, and Bellamy Blake bursts out just after them, texting furiously and not at all watching where he’s going.

 “Blake,” Marcus snaps, and Bellamy stops so abruptly his chest almost crashes right into Clarke’s head. “You heading north?” Bellamy nods, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Good. Walk with Clarke, would you? I don’t like her out alone at night.”

 Clarke rolls her eyes. “Marcus, I’m fine,” she insists, because she’s an adult who can take care of herself, but Bellamy’s nodding and it doesn’t seem like she has a choice in the matter. “Fuck, fine. But you’re both idiots.”

 As he gives her a quick hug, Marcus grins. “I’m protective because I love you.”

 If possible, she rolls her eyes even harder, and as she and Bellamy Blake start to walk away together, her stepfather yells, “And your mother and I will see you on Sunday night!”

 And to think she’d been so close to escape. “No, you won’t!” she yells back, but they both know it’s a lie. She and Marcus are partial to indulging one another’s whims- they always have been the ultimate partners in crime- and if Marcus wants her to put an effort in with Abby then she at least has to try, if only for his sake.

 

Bellamy Blake, it turns out, is ridiculously cautious, and often refuses to cross the road even when the light is green because he doesn’t trust whoever happens to be driving the cars waiting to continue on their way. Twice already Clarke has forced him to chase her across a street, and the look of annoyance on his face was priceless both times.

 “You really don’t need to walk me home,” she tells him as the reach a bar he looks at wistfully. “I’m more than capable of getting myself to my apartment safely. I’m a big girl, you know.”

 Bellamy allows a small smirk as he looks her up and down. “You’re not very big, actually,” he points out. “Besides, you’re not my boss, and unfortunately for you, Kane is, so guess who I’m going to listen to?”

 You should listen to me, Clarke thinks, because I’m a lot more willing to kick your arse than he is. She sighs. “Look, I need to stop by my girlfriend’s place to pick up a few things first, and she’s likely to start throwing kitchen appliances and yelling and it’s not going to be pretty, so it’s best if you and I just part ways now.”

 She sometimes honestly can’t believe that she and Lexa are soulmates. They’re too different and too similar and they clearly don’t work well together, but the name etched into the skin on the back of her neck isn’t a lie, and if you can’t be certain of your soulmate then what can you be certain of?

 Bellamy jerks a thumb at the bar. “She sounds like a real charmer,” he says. “Wanna grab a drink, Princess?”

 She doesn’t know Bellamy but she knows he isn’t as bad as whatever she’ll be facing when she gets back to Lexa’s, and there’s no hesitation in her movements as she strides to the waiting entrance of the Ark Bar.

 Inside it’s dark, and Clarke has a vague memory of hooking up with some greasy-haired arsehole in one of the bathroom stalls when she was beyond drunk. Finn had been his name, and it turned out he’d been dating one of the bartenders, and in a strange turn of events Clarke and bartender Raven Reyes are now best friends.

 It’s fairly empty on account of it being a Tuesday, and she and Bellamy have no trouble getting themselves seats right by the bar.

 Raven, standing behind the counter and cleaning glasses, grins at them. “Griffin made a friend?” she teases, cocking her head at Bellamy. “Well, there’s a first.” She slides them each a beer. “On the house, kids.”

 Clarke holds her glass out and knocks it against Bellamy’s. “Bottoms up,” she says with a smile, before chugging the entire contents of the glass.

 This seems to amuse Bellamy, who only takes a sip of his. “Slow down, Princess,” he warns. “If you’re drunk you might not be able to dodge the kitchen appliances your crazy girlfriend is going to be throwing at you.”

 “You’re going to see Lexa?” Raven demands, quirking an eyebrow. “Huh. I thought you guys were done.”

 “Nah,” Clarke says. “It’s just a rough patch. She’s my soulmate, y’know? I can’t just-” She breaks off suddenly, remembering that the name Finn Collins is tattooed on the back of Raven’s neck and that it hadn’t really meant shit in the end. “I don’t know.”

 After another sip of his drink, Bellamy throws in his own opinion, despite not knowing Lexa or even Clarke, really. “The whole concept of soulmates is bullshit,” he announces. “It’s fucked up how people get so hung up about it, like they guilt themselves into loving someone they don’t even like because they’re terrified there’s no one else willing to be with them.”

 Raven grins. “Now that’s something I’ll drink to.”

 The argument Bellamy presented is one that haunts Clarke’s mind for a good, long time, and even later that night after she’s made up with Lexa and they’re kissing in the kitchen, she thinks, _Do I love you? Or am I just supposed to?_

 

Finn Collins makes his reappearance a week later. He’d been travelling until one sunny afternoon he’s back, in possession of both a new tan and a tiny blonde who looks like she could barely be over eighteen. The tiny blonde is pressed to his side, kissing his neck as he rattles off their order to an exhausted looking barista.

 “Don’t look now,” Clarke says hastily, “But Finn and a girl who’s probably still in high school just walked in.”

 Raven’s pretty face pales as her hand flies to the back of her neck and traces his name, and Clarke knows she wants to tear him off her skin and drop him in the sea. A moment later she’s twisting around in her seat and biting her lip when she sees the familiar dark hair and stupid leather jacket that doesn’t even fit him. “What the _fuck_?” she hisses.

 Probably she didn’t mean for that to be as loud as it was, but it doesn’t matter what she planned because Finn hears and turns around to see two of his exes sitting together in a booth at a café, sharing a lemon meringue tart, and leaves his latest pretty young thing alone so he talk to them instead.

 Raven looks so pissed, Clarke worries she might explode.

 “Hey, ladies,” Finn says as he- uninvited, as he usually is- sits in the empty chair beside Clarke. “Haven’t heard from either of you in a while. What’s been happening?”

 There’s a moment of silence, and then- “Fuck you.” Raven has daggers in her eyes and her expression says she’s ready to kill. Clarke wouldn’t put murder past her, either, given her history with Finn.

 The conversation goes as well as expected; Clarke stays near silent, shifting as far away from Finn as she can, while he and Raven verbally spar, until he declares that she got hotter while he was away and asks her out to dinner.

 Raven’s eyes widen, but instead of kicking him like she surely wants to, she takes a deep breath and tells him she has a boyfriend, which is a total lie but it’s better than getting kicked out of the café for assaulting a fellow customer. She says this with an air of quiet satisfaction, like she finally has one over him, and she doesn’t even falter when he says he doesn’t believe her. “You can meet him, if you want,” she says casually. “He’s on his way here now.”

 The next moment Clarke swears is fate. She knows the universe put people together to love each other eternally, and she’d soon argue that when that doesn’t work the universe also has a way of fixing its mistakes, because what happens next is the most beautiful exchange she’s ever had pleasure of witnessing.

 A bell rings as the door opens, and a tall, gorgeous blonde walks in, and by some miracle he’s alone. Raven jumps up, grinning, and cries, “Babe, you’re late!” He doesn’t even have a chance to look confused before she’s launching herself at him, their lips meeting almost as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

 Raven eventually comes up for air, and Clarke notes her flushed cheeks and small smile, and the way she absently runs a finger along her lips, and the stranger is looking at her like she’s as radiant as the sun.

 The barista tells Finn- and the young girl, who doesn’t seem to have understood anything that just happened and who Clarke deems beyond her help- that their drinks are ready and he stalks out of the café as quickly as he’d arrived.

 “Thanks,” Raven says to the guy, and she’s kind of breathless and not put together in a way that Clarke has never known her to be. “I’m Raven, by the way.”

 He’s smiling but his expression falters slightly at the name, and Clarke knows that he’d been hoping she’d say a name that matched the one he’d been given. This doesn’t seem to matter to him much, though, because there’s a light in his eyes as he introduces himself as Wick and gives Raven his number before she and Clarke leave.

 Soulmates are great, but there’s something to be said about people who manage to love even when they know it’s with the wrong person. Sometimes Clarke wishes she could be like that, like she could ignore the person the universe had granted her and give her love to someone else. Sometimes she wonders if the reason she and Lexa are soulmates is because neither of them deserves anybody else.

 

The next time Clarke sees Bellamy is at Marcus and Abby’s Christmas party. He hadn’t been at the station for a while because his sister went through a brief stint in rehab and he’d been the only one able to help her when she got out, and she hadn’t really been around the office either because she’d been getting busy and her and Marcus’ dinners dwindled down to once a month.

 He’s in a suit, and his lips are smiling around a champagne glass, and it’s an odd picture because somehow Clarke doesn’t think this is who he is. She doesn’t think he’s much of a cop, either, but that’s another story.

 A girl about Clarke’s age is next to him in a purple dress, and she supposes this is his sister- partially because she’s actively avoiding the server going around and handing everyone drinks, but mostly because she looks exactly like she imagines Bellamy would if he were a girl.

 They don’t get to talk at first, because Clarke stumbles in late and is unable to avoid her mother. “I don’t know what you’re wearing Clarke,” Abby says, a hint of distaste in her voice, “But it’s certainly not appropriate for tonight.”

 Clarke doesn’t care what Abby thinks but she looks down at her outfit anyway. She’s wearing a grey singlet with a black skirt and boots, and the entire ensemble was plucked from Raven’s closet and yeah, okay, she doesn’t exactly fit in with the fancy dresses, but she’s proving a point- she’s not sure what the point _is_ exactly, but she’ll figure it out at some point in the evening.

 The relationship between the two of them is getting better. Clarke did end up going to that dinner and they’ve talked a little since, but she still doesn’t go out of her way to see her mother and she’s fairly sure her mother is fine with this. They’re mostly just getting along for Marcus’ sake, but it’s more than could be said for them a few months ago.

 Abby sighs when it becomes clear her daughter has no intention of replying, and she follows Clarke’s gaze to where Bellamy and his sister- Octavia, they will later learn- are laughing by the table of food. “Oh, honey, you’re not checking out that girl, are you?” she asks, and she sounds infinitely disappointed. “She looks like a train-wreck.”

 “No, mother, I am not,” Clarke says, and it’s not a lie, but she doesn’t feel the need to say that she’s actually checking out Bellamy. She couldn’t admit it anyway, because Lexa will be home from visiting her family in a few days and she shouldn’t be checking anyone out.

 She will admit, though, that Bellamy Blake looks really good in a suit, and it’s natural for her to notice that. _Lexa wouldn’t care_ , she tells herself, but she’s not sure about that because Lexa can be insanely jealous, and the fact that she and Clarke are soulmates isn’t something likely to settle her fears. She has trust issues, Lexa does, and they usually lead to anger issues.

 Clarke sips her drink in an attempt to drown her guilt- her unwarranted guilt, because she’s doing nothing wrong.

 Bellamy wanders over to her when his sister disappears into the bathroom. His hair is, for some unfathomable reason, slicked back in a way that looks incredibly ridiculous but it’s also kind of cute. He has his hands in his pockets and even though he’s dressed correctly he, like, Clarke, doesn’t quite fit in with these people.

 “What’s up, Princess?” he greets, and his easy smile lights up his face but it looks a little like happiness doesn’t belong on him and Clarke supposes the same could be said of her.

 Clarke shrugs. Nothing’s up, really, but she doesn’t want to admit that. “My girlfriend and I worked things out,” she tells him, even though she’s sure he doesn’t care. She just feels he should know, in case he was thinking of checking her out back.

 “I’m glad,” he says. “No kitchen appliances thrown?”

 She hides a smile. “No kitchen appliances thrown.”

 That night they dance. Clarke isn’t much of a dancer, in all truth, but Marcus loves to go all out on his parties, and when Bellamy asks her- she thinks he’s joking but goes with it regardless- it seems a viable option to escape her mother. His hands brush over her neck at one point, lingering, and he tells her he doesn’t have a soulmate.

 She pauses in her swaying. “You don’t?” she asks, because she hadn’t known that was possible, hadn’t known there were people whose choice was entirely their own.

 He shakes his head but he doesn’t elaborate, and she doesn’t ask him to. It’s a personal thing, she supposes, and she’s not sure why he’s told her- she doesn’t want to think about why he’s told her, actually, because that would just mean more thinking about him, and this is only the second time they’ve met but it feels like she knows him.

 There’s a moment as she’s leaving where his lips are against her ear, and he’s whispering, “Call me,” while his hands slip his number into her bag, and she catches the eye of his sister, who looks just as confused as Clarke feels.

 

Two things happen on New Year’s Eve, and Clarke isn’t sure which is more important in the grand scheme of the universe, because both are momentous occasions in their own right.  

 This is the first: Raven and Wick- Kyle is his first name, but no one ever calls him that- get engaged.

 The bar Raven works at is overflowing with drunken young people, but Clarke and Wick both got there before opening and Wick’s behind the bar with an arm around Raven’s waist and Clarke’s sitting on top of the bar, her legs crossed beneath her.

 Wick is good for Raven, she thinks as she watches the two mix drinks, and it’s nice to see two people who don’t belong together looking like they do. She wonders if Wick has met his soulmate since meeting Raven only a few months ago, and wonders what would happen if he did.

 Her question is answered a half hour before midnight.

 The girl who stumbles up to the bar is small and redheaded and doesn’t look like she’s old enough to be drinking. She’s by herself, and doesn’t hesitate to slide over her ID when Raven asks for it. “I swear it’s not fake,” she says, and her accent is mildly southern and entirely sweet. “I’m older than I look.”

 Raven, Clarke knows, has never asked Wick about his soulmate, and has avoided looking at the back of his neck- understandably, she doesn’t want to know about the girl who’s perfect for her boyfriend. She knows there’s someone meant for Wick, and knows that someone isn’t her, but that doesn’t mean she has to know who it is.

 It’s by chance that Wick, already pouring the girl her drink, looks over Raven’s shoulder and catches sight of the name on the ID. He pauses in what he’s doing, and the girl laughs.

 “I know,” she says, grinning. “I look horrible in that photo. But now you know my name, what’s yours?”

 Clarke, now interested in why Wick looks like he might be sick, checks out the ID. Melanie Hart, twenty two, from Texas. The photo is kind of ridiculous; her hair’s a mess and she’s as sunburnt as Clarke has ever seen a person.

 Raven and Clarke introduce themselves and Wick is suddenly incredibly interested in a scratch on the countertop. “Wick,” he mutters, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear him.

 There’s a look in Melanie Hart from Texas’ eyes like she’s just met her idol, or seen the sun for the first time. She smiles, all her teeth showing, and asks Wick, shamelessly, if she can come back and kiss him at midnight. She looks so hopeful, and so confident- and she’s not at all prepared for when Wick turns her down.

 “No,” he chokes out. “I- fuck, sorry, but I can’t. I’m… spoken for.”

 Melanie falters, and Clarke can imagine what she’s thinking; that of course Wick’s spoken for, because he’s spoken for by her, and how can he be saying no?

 To her credit, she’s quite decent about the whole thing. She sees the way Wick clutches Raven’s arm and sees the hopeless look in Raven’s eyes, and she tells them she hopes their life is wonderful, and then she takes her drink and is gone as quick as she’d arrived.

 Raven doesn’t say anything, and when Wick turns to her and says, “Marry me,” she’s so surprised she drops the glass she was holding and it shatters by her feet.

 She blinks. Once, twice. And then she nods, with a confused expression like she’s not quite sure what she’s doing, and in all the time she’s known them, Clarke has never seen either of the pair look so ridiculously happy.

 The second thing that happens is this: Clarke and Lexa end their three year relationship, and everyone knows it’s been a long time coming, but somehow it’s still a surprise.

 It’s midnight and Clarke’s had too many vodka cruisers in the span of twenty minutes for it to be healthy, and with Raven and Wick making out behind the bar, she stumbles through the crowd with the intention to get out and call a taxi.

 She doesn’t get to the exit at first, though, because she finds Lexa. Lexa, with her lips pressed against Melanie Hart’s neck, and Clarke has to laugh because, _what the fuck?_ This is only the kind of thing that would happen to her, she thinks, as she watches the two grind against one another, and makes a mental note to laugh about it with Wick when she gets the chance.

 Who would’ve thought Lexa likes sweet girls from Texas?

 Clarke hadn’t, that’s for sure. Their relationship had never been perfect but her naïve, romantic self had never really seen it ending- she especially hadn’t pictured her best friend’s boyfriend’s soulmate being involved, that’s for sure.

 It’s not until she’s out on the cool street that she starts to laugh. It’s not funny, not at all, but in a way it’s also hilarious. She’d been asking the universe for a sign maybe the notion of soulmates wasn’t perfect, and she guesses this is it.

 The relationship doesn’t technically end until the next afternoon, but if technicalities are involved then Clarke thinks the relationship had ended months ago. They’d always wanted different things, and too much time had been spent trying to pretend they didn’t.

 It’s kind of a waste, Clarke thinks, to give your everything to someone who doesn’t want it.

 

Halfway through February, and she curses herself for losing Bellamy’s number as soon as she’d got it. It had fallen out of her bag the day after Christmas, so she’d slipped it into her jeans pocket and it had ended up going through the washing machine and it came out in pieces similar to those of her heart.

 But she knows where to find him.

 The police station is busy, and neither Marcus nor Bellamy is in so she feels a bit out of place as she sits in a plastic chair in the waiting area, crossing and uncrossing and crossing her ankles. They’ll be back from lunch soon, the helpful new desk officer tells her, and as she thanks him she thinks it’s a stroke of good luck that Marcus seems to be fond of Bellamy already.

 She jumps up when they arrive, and both look surprised to see her.

 “Clarke,” Marcus says. “What are you doing here?”

 Bellamy doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

 “I, um, I’m here to see Bellamy, actually,” she stammers out, and she doesn’t have as much nerve as she did an hour ago, but this isn’t anything she wants to back out of.

 Marcus clearly wants to ask _why_ she’s here to see Bellamy, but he doesn’t push it and disappears through to the office where she has so many memories but the fondest is somehow of meeting Bellamy.

 When Marcus is gone, she offers Bellamy a smile. “Hi.”

 “You never called, Princess” he says. He doesn’t angry and he doesn’t sound particularly shocked, either. Mostly he just seems sad, like hers was a call he’d been waiting for.

 Clarke leans back against the wall, her arms folded over her chest. “I lost it,” she admits. “Well, no, I didn’t lose it. I put it through the wash. I was going to call, I swear.”

 She’s not sure if that’s the truth or not, but she’s wanted to see him ever since she stopped seeing Lexa, and she figures that even if it is a little white lie that it can’t hurt.

 “Did you want to grab a drink with me sometime?”

 The look on his face tells her that this is the last thing he’d been expecting, but he says yes and gives her his number again anyway, and Clarke is smiling as she leaves.

 

Their drink is a coffee a week later, two long blacks at the same café where Raven met Wick, because to Clarke this place seems like it must be full of good luck.

 Neither of them dress for the occasion. Clarke’s wearing grey yoga pants and her hair is in a messy bun, and Bellamy’s in old jeans and a holey shirt. They’re sitting a round table, and they’re not talking much because there isn’t much to say, but they’re smiling over their mugs and that says enough.

 The first thing she tells him is that she and Lexa are over- that they were probably over a year ago, in all honesty, but now it’s official- and he laughs when she tells him the details of how it ended, and that makes her feel not so bad for laughing at the time.

 “Well,” Bellamy says, “I wish Lexa and Melanie from Texas all the luck in the world.” She likes his smile, a wide grin that forces him to squint, and she always finds herself smiling in return. It’s infectious.

 Clarke snorts. “They actually are together now,” she says. “I saw them at a foreign film festival last month. I hope poor Melanie knows what she’s in for. Lexa’s a handful.” It feels good to say that, to be able to criticise Lexa without feeling guilty, as though her own feelings are something to apologise for.

 She’s come to realise that maybe she was never in love with Lexa, and that she’d only ever loved the idea of her. Lexa’s a wild thing, and her kind of wild had never been suited to Clarke’s own recklessness. Clarke is careless with herself and Lexa is careless with others and they were always doomed to fail, no matter what the universe has to say about it.

 “Tell me about you,” she demands, leaning forward eagerly and resting her elbows on the table. She wants to know about Bellamy, wants to know what goes on behind those dark eyes.

 Bellamy shrugs, and he looks almost self-conscious, which is something she’d never thought to associate with him until now. “Nothing to tell,” he says, and she’s sure that’s a lie because though she hardly knows him, she has a feeling he may well be one of the most interesting people she’s ever met. “I’m just some kid from the wrong side of town who likes to help people.”

 Helping people is something that comes naturally to him, she knows, and not just because he’s a cop. She knows because of how he’d refused to let her walk home by herself that first night, and had seen her safely into a cab to Lexa’s apartment. She knows because he took time off work to look after his sick sister, and she’d seen for herself how he was with her at the Christmas party.

 She’s asked Marcus about him a couple of times, and she’s only heard good things, which is amazing because impressing Marcus Kane isn’t something most people can do. They get lunch together regularly, apparently, and she almost feels left out.

 “Kane says you’re an artist?” he asks.

 Clarke laughs. “That, and my mother’s biggest disappointment,” she tells him. Her and Abby’s relationship is steadily healing, but it’s baby steps, and they can’t go a single meeting without some snide remark on her mother’s part. “Artist by night. By day I work in a music store, but I’ve got a few pieces in an upcoming exhibit so hopefully I can ditch the store soon.”

 It’s surprising how genuinely interested he looks. When she talks about her art she’s usually met with contempt from her mother, supportive indifference from Kane, and a total lack of attention from Raven.

 “You should sketch me some time,” he says. “Be sure to catch my good side though.”

 “Oh, you have a good side?” she teases. “I hadn’t noticed.” Biggest lie she’s ever told- she’s fairly sure _all_ of his sides are good. More than good, in all honestly.

 She goes home- she got herself a new apartment in the same building as Raven and Wick, which she supposes is a result of her terrible separation anxiety- that afternoon and pulls out her pencils and paper and it takes her about a hundred tries to get it right and even then she isn’t quite happy with the result, but she slips it into one of her portfolios anyway so even if whatever she and Bellamy are doing ends in devastation, she’ll still be able to see his face.

 

It’s her twenty fifth birthday party, and everyone she loves is there, and it seems to confuse everyone that Bellamy- quiet, perpetually brooding Bellamy- and Wick- loud, annoyingly cheerful Wick- appear to be hitting it off.

 Bellamy’s sister is Octavia, and he brought her along with him because he’s met Clarke’s family so it’s about time she met his. Octavia is on the couch with a glass of water, and she points at where Bellamy and Wick- who’s gesturing wildly with the hand that isn’t on Raven’s shoulder- are talking animatedly about _Ancient Greece_ , of all things.

 “Okay, that’s fucking weird,” Octavia declares to Clarke, who’s bemused by the situation herself. She’s six months sober now, and says she owes it all to Bellamy. “Bell doesn’t just… talk to people.”

 “Wick could befriend a hedgehog,” Clarke replies absently. She’s too busy admiring the way Bellamy’s arms look in the shirt that’s a half size too small to really pay attention to anything his sister is saying.

 They’ve been on four dates since the café now- _he_ dragged _her_ to see the new Pitch Perfect film, she took him to the exhibit her art was shown at, they had dinner at a fancy restaurant (Bellamy hates Japanese food, but he tried valiantly to hide that from her), and they drove up to the beach one day where they ran into Lexa and Melanie from Texas, which was surreal because Clarke had always thought Lexa avoided the sun at all costs.  

 The party isn’t much of a party, because Marcus and Abby wanted to be with her on her birthday, and she can’t exactly have a rave with her parents around, so other than Bellamy and Octavia and Raven and Wick, her only guests are Monty Green and Jasper Jordan, the guys she works with at the music store, but at least everyone is having a decent time.

 There’s a crash in the kitchen, and a cry of, “Fuck!” and Monty and Jasper emerge looking entirely guilty.

 “We tried to make a nice dinner, guys,” Jasper says.

 “We really tried,” Monty says.

 Raven leans past Wick and narrows her eyes at them. “What did you idiots do?” she asks accusingly, craning her neck to see into the kitchen they were just in.

 Monty hastily kicks the kitchen door shut.

 “You don’t want to know,” Jasper says emphatically. “But I think it’s best if we order pizza and forget Clarke even has a kitchen.”

 That’s fine by Clarke. She hates cooking and loves pizza, and no one has any complaints when the two men head out to pick up the cheesiest pizzas they can find, insisting on paying because they think it’ll be cheaper than paying for the repairs to Clarke’s kitchen.

 Raven disentangles herself from Wick, and Clarke watches her kiss his shoulder as she leaves him there, and she thinks their love is the purest she’s ever seen. It fascinates her, and gives her hope that there is more for her in life than Lexa.

 “Your boyfriend’s a nerd, Clarke,” she says as she drops into the armchair opposite Clarke and Raven. “And he’d bringing out the nerd in _my_ fiancé, and I don’t like it.”

 Bellamy and Wick have moved onto to Star Wars now, and are arguing over whether or not the new movie will be any good- Bellamy is violently opposed to the film, Wick is so excited he might wet himself.

 Suppressing a smile, Clarke says, “He’s not my boyfriend.” They’re friends, sure, and they have fun on their dates and there’s absolutely the possibility for more, but they’re not there yet. She’s okay with that- whatever they’re doing is worth the wait. The end justifies the means, and all that.

 A snort from Octavia. “Does he know that?” she asks. “He won’t shut up about you. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

 Bellamy, across the room, sends his sister a glare. “Lies and slander!” he yells, but he’s grinning as he does so and when Octavia laughs into her hand, he winks at Clarke.

 Even and Marcus and Abby, who Clarke’s sure are regretting their choice to hang out with them by now, crack smiles. “Stay away from my daughter, Blake,” Abby warns, and it’s the most maternal she’s been in years. Baby steps, Clarke thinks, baby steps.

 They’re all starving when Monty and Jasper return with an obscene amount of pizza between them. Clarke doesn’t have a dining room- or an actual table, for that matter- so they all huddle around the coffee table, her and Marcus and Abby claiming the seats and the rest of them on the wooden floor. Bellamy’s hair is tickling her knees and at some point in the evening his fingers end up winding through hers.

 Being comfortable is a nice feeling.

 Bellamy and Octavia are eventually the last two left- Marcus and Abby both have an early shift the next morning, Monty and Jasper have an actual party to get to, and Raven and Wick (who only live two floors up) are on their way to becoming _domestic_ and need to go check on their fish. Wick had wanted a dog, but Raven’s much more practical, but still, one has to wonder whether they love each other or their fish more.

 “I think I’ll call a cab,” Octavia says, looking between Bellamy and Clarke like she knows something they don’t. “Bell, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She reaches over and kisses his cheek, and smiles at Clarke. “It was nice meeting you, Clarke.”

 When she’s gone, Clarke sets about cleaning up the mess Monty and Jasper made of the living room, too afraid to deal with whatever they’d done in the kitchen. “I like your sister,” she says as she spirits around the room.

 “She likes you too,” Bellamy answers. “She wouldn’t have left me here if she didn’t.”

 Clarke’s always wanted a sibling, but she was her parent’s only child and when Abby married Marcus neither had been interested in any children other than her. Bellamy and Octavia are lucky, she thinks, to have each other. The closest she has to a sister is Raven, and Raven would likely hit her if she said something as sappy as that out loud.

 The two settle on the couch, their knees knocking together. “She’s not the only one, you know,” he says. “Who likes you, I mean.”

 “Oh?” she asks. “And who else likes me?”

 He doesn’t answer, but he leans over and presses his lips to hers, and she thinks that she likes him too.

 

Raven and Wick get married on a Tuesday afternoon on a private property they hire from an old couple who are ecstatic at the notion of young love. It’s a small affair, and the weather is nice, and Raven won’t admit to actually looking forward to the day but even her cynicism can’t deny it’s a perfect day.

 They’re standing under a small archway as Marcus, who got ordained online, talks them through their vows, with Clarke and Bellamy- who, despite having just met Wick, was someone roped into being best man, which Raven insists is just because all of Wick’s friends secretly hate him- to either side of them, and everyone is smiling.

 Of course, Raven can’t help a small laugh when Marcus uses Wick’s first name. She loves him but some things never change.

 The kiss when they’re pronounced man and wife is almost inappropriate for public, something Clarke feels like she shouldn’t be seeing because it’s so very real.

 She’s glad Wick walked into that café when he did- she’s never seen Raven so happy. Fate pairs people together, but she’s starting to believe the universe is capable of changing its mind. If Raven and Wick aren’t meant to be then Clarke isn’t sure _any_ two people are meant to be. They fit together better than any soulmates she’s ever seen, except maybe Marcus and Abby.

 For the reception they close the bar Raven works at, and when she and Wick arrive they yell in unison, “We’re married, bitches!” and then they’re kissing again. Clarke, laughing into a drink, discreetly averts her eyes.

 Octavia is sitting in a purple dress and too high heels at the bar, a glass of wine in her hand. “Wine was never my poison,” she explains to Clarke’s questioning gaze. “It was a drug thing.” She goes to take a sip but pauses, glass mid-air. Gesturing to someone across the room, she asks, “Who’s that guy? The one that looks like he’s going to stab Wick if he doesn’t shut up?”

 Clarke follows her gaze. “Oh, that’s Lincoln,” she says. “He works here with Raven.”

 “Hm, you don’t say,” Octavia says, and before Clarke can further the conversation, the younger of the Blakes is tearing across the room toward Lincoln, and as she goes her hair whips around her and Clarke can make out the name Lincoln on her neck.

 Soulmates are a wonderful thing too, even if they don’t always work. Clarke hopes it works for Octavia and Lincoln.

 “You look fantastic,” Bellamy says, appearing and wrapping his arms around Clarke. He’s warm behind her, and his chin resting on her shoulder feels better than it probably should.

 She twists her neck to smile up at him. “You rock a suit,” is her response. “And you’re a terrible best man. You haven’t even made a speech yet.”

 He groans. “And I’m not going to,” he says. “Bloody Wick wanted me to do a song and dance number.”

 The thought of Bellamy tap dancing on the countertop they’re leaning against is too much for Clarke, who starts laughing so hard she has to cover her mouth. “Do it- for me?”

 “There are many things I’d do for you, Princess,” he says, “But that is not one of them. I don’t care how good you look in that dress. I don’t dance.”

 Bellamy doesn’t give a speech, but Clarke does. Everyone’s sitting at a round table, and Raven’s hiding her face in Wick’s shoulder when Clarke talks about the time Marcus had to arrest them both because Raven got in a fight with a stranger on the street. She falters when, as she’s trying and failing to convey how much she loves Raven, Bellamy mouths ‘I love you’ at her, and then she smiles.

 Soulmates be damned, she loves him too.

 


End file.
